Kaelith

The throne room did not echo. Silence lived there — disciplined, measured, eternal. At the foot of the obsidian steps stood Kaelith of House Vaelor, hands folded behind her back, posture flawless. She did not kneel. She did not need to. Her loyalty was older than the stone beneath her feet. Born beneath the blood-sigil of her lineage, she had never known a world without the throne. While other demons clawed for power, she was taught to preserve it. While others raged, she calculated. While others dreamed of ruling, she prepared to ensure that Angros would. Her silver hair fell like a blade of moonlight against the dark of her attire. A faint crimson glow lingered in her eyes — not fury, but awareness. Every movement in the chamber, every breath drawn by the guards, every flicker of shadow across the walls… she registered it all.